The rise of taxidermy: The day I learned how to stuff a mouse

IT'S macabre, Victorian and it's all the rage! Our brave writer joined a class to master this grisly new hipster hobby.

It's got distinctly Victorian overtones, is becoming the interior design must-have for any chic gastro-pubs or restaurants and beauties Angelina Jolie, Kate Moss and Ellie Goulding have all admitted to having a penchant for it.

Yes, taxidermy is on the rise once again and although macabre, classes are selling out across London as hipsters flock in their droves, eager to stuff a mouse, rabbit or fox.

One particular branch of this morbid pastime is anthropomorphic taxidermy, preserving the body of a dead animal in a pose or attitude as though it were human.

Thanks to Margot Magpie, a member of the UK Guild of Taxidermists, this practice has moved away from its Victorian roots and had a modern makeover.

After a stint at the Science Museum and creating pieces for theatre, Margot now teaches taxidermy classes across the UK.

We were given the opportunity to try out a taxidermy class with Groupon's Head of Experiences, Millie Humphries, whose job it is to find new and exciting experiences to bring to the site.

So on a unusually sunny Sunday afternoon I dragged my boyfriend Patrick to a dingy underground bar in central London for a four-hour class on how to stuff and position a mouse.

Taxidermist Margot Magpie began doing the eccentric art three years ago [PH]

We sat on a battered grey sofa and inspected the instruments laid out on the small bar table in front of us: a scalpel, ball of cotton wool and pair of rubber gloves.

Then Margot, who was dressed in flower-print Doc Martens, advised us to pull on our gloves as she produced some frozen mice from a black bin liner.

She reassured us that the mice were all ethically sourced from a reptile food supplier in Northampton and hadn't been killed for the purpose of taxidermy.

We cupped them in our hands to make them warm enough to work with – a bit like warming up a Creme Egg that’s spent too long in the fridge. We then measured the length and width of our rodent specimens.

But before we were let loose with the scalpel Margot, who has been doing taxidermy for three years, warned us that first timers usually chop off a limb, ear or lose some fur by accident.

We instantly lowered our expectations and prayed that we wouldn't decapitate the little mite.

I also realised that I'm a lot more squeamish than I thought and needed Patrick to take on the grisly task of turning this dead rodent into a work of art.

Taxidermy beginners are advised to begin on a small creatures like a mice [PH]

Under Margot's instruction we placed the mouse on its back, its four legs spread-eagled in a star shape and Patrick gently sliced from sternum to knee. He said the delicate process felt like slicing into chicken.

This is when the wimpier pupils flocked out of the room. Margot assured us that no one has ever fainted or been sick in one of her classes, but said many people leave after discovering that they have to actually skin the animal.

Once the incision had been made the next step was rather gruesome and I left it in Patrick’s capable hands.

He had to pull the mouse’s skin away from the sack containing its organs, being careful not to pierce the membrane keeping them all in place. By this point the mouse had warmed up and smelled like a butcher's shop.

The skin was then pulled down over the mouse’s knees - a bit like taking off his trousers - and over the elbows before being cut off, leaving us with a mouse-like cape of fur.

Bits of mouse intestine and liver lay strewn all over the tables around us but it was undoubtedly fascinating. It was as much a class about mouse anatomy as one on taxidermy.

Anthropomorphic taxidermy involves preserving animals and displaying them as if they were humans [PH]

But the point at which my stomach really began to somersault was when we worked on the skull. A fiddly operation, the back bones of the tiny skull needed to be removed but the front and teeth had to be left for structure.

All of the organs, muscles, eyes and tongue needed to be cut out so the finished mouse didn’t rot and attract insects.

Patrick admitted that he forgot how morbid it all was he was concentrating so intensely. Taxidermy is perhaps an unconventional way to destress.

It's just a way of facing the inevitable death of everything around us a bit easier to deal with

Margot Magpie

Once our mouse was skinned, we washed off any remaining blood with cold water and washing up liquid and pinned it, with 11 other mice furs, to a board to be blow dried.

Taxidermy was a popular art form in the 1800s and one of its best known practitioner was Walter potter who created Victorian curiosities such as The Kitten Wedding and The Kitten Tea Party, strangely lifelike tableaux consisted of kittens, dressed and posed, in a meticulously painted and constructed set.

Fast forward 200 years and artists including Margot and London-based taxidermist Polly Morgan are making it cool again.

Our class, in a shabby-chic room with blues music playing through the speaker, consisted of stylish young people. But Margot dismissed the assumption that this is just a fad for goths and hipsters.

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“These classes break boundaries and give people hands-on experience with something dead, which they then learn about the anatomy and preservation of," she said.

"It’s a very wide range of people coming to these classes and not a bunch of angsty teens dressed in black. Nor is it solely reserved for the super cool hipster set of east London.”

While waiting for our mouse to dry we chose a selection of props, all sourced from a dolls house company, including a top hat and Daily Express newspaper.

Once the animal was dry we painted the inside of its pelt with a thin layer of curing agent to preserve it. As that was working, we moved on to the more crafty bit of the class - the stuffing.

Using the measurements we made earlier we cut a wire to the same length as the mouse, wrapped it with cotton wool and secured it with string.

A delicate operation ensued in which we positioned this sausage-shaped piece of cotton wool into the mouse skin, pushing four wires through all four paws to give it structure.

One of our wires went AWOL and pierced the mouse's neck. And then putting my GCSE sewing techniques to use, I hand-stitched the skin together, working from top to bottom, and gently filling it out with more cotton wool where there was room.

The finished results of our taxidermy class [PH]

By now it was resembling a "real" mouse, with the wires allowing it to stand and the hands to be adjusted into different positions.

The most fiddly bit was to then put beads where the eyes once were and required Margot’s expert skills. Once this was done, they were secured with super glue.

Our mouse appeared a little on the gaunt side, there were a few rips and the fur had gone a bit grey because of over-handling, nevertheless we were proud of our first attempt. Margot even praised our efforts.

A former veterinary nurse, she sees taxidermy as playing a valuable role in our youth-obsessed culture.

“Dressing dead mice up as if they were little humans reading the paper, or going fishing is just a way of facing the inevitable death of everything around us a bit easier to deal with.”

Indeed, this is no Blue Peter tutorial. The blood and guts were too much to handle at times but other parts were quite therapeutic and fun.

It’s definitely worth experiencing for yourself – just leave your wimpy side at the door.